I Believe in Batman
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Set after the events in "Batman: Arkham Asylum." A brief piece narrated by Harley Quinn describing a night trying to cope with the Joker's illness, and its conclusion after the events in "Batman: Arkham City."
1. Chapter 1

**I Believe in Batman**

I was startled awake by a series of terrible racking coughs next to me in the bed. I rolled over immediately and wrapped my arms tightly around his frail form, shushing him gently as I kissed his neck tenderly, whispering, "It's ok, puddin'. It's going to be ok."

He knew I was lying. I knew it too, barely able to hold back the tears at seeing him like this. But I had to try. I had to be strong, for him. The Titan formula was doing swift and terrible work, and I don't know how much longer Mr. J can hold out. He's strong, much stronger than I am, the strongest person I know, but this thing is eating away at him like no disease I ever saw. Eating away at his body, his heart, his mind. And destroying me as surely as it destroys him.

The coughs stopped at last. I didn't let go of him. "What are you trying to do, suffocate me?" he snarled. "Let go, you crazy dame, I can't breathe with you choking me like that."

I obeyed immediately, releasing him and sliding away. I stared at his back for what seemed an eternity before he muttered, "I'm thirsty, Harley."

"I'll get you some water, puddin'," I murmured, rising from bed and throwing on my robe. I went to the bathroom and filled a glass, bringing it back to the bed and helping him sit up. I was struck again, with sudden agony, at seeing how frail he was, how weak he had become, that he needed my help to simply sit up in bed. The realization brought tears to my eyes that I couldn't hold back, even as I put the glass to his lips.

"Drink this, and you'll feel better, sweetie," I whispered.

"You're no good with jokes, Harley," he muttered. "Don't try to be funny."

"Yes, sir," I murmured. I stroked his hair back from his poor, ravaged face as he sipped the water, the simple act a huge effort for him. "Boss, it hurts like crazy to see you like this," I whispered.

"It hurts you, does it?" he snapped. "Can you even begin to imagine how I feel? It's so like you, Harley, me, me, me, all the time. How _I _feel, what _I _want, do you even begin to care how _I_ feel?"

"Of course I do, puddin', that's all I care about," I murmured. "Can I get you anything else or should I go back to bed?"

He glared at me. "Go back to bed, you selfish bitch."

I obeyed him, lying back down in the bed next to him, but away from him. He had his back to me, so he didn't see me crying silent tears. I knew he was only saying these things because he was sick, because his mind wasn't working quite right, because he wasn't feeling quite himself. My Mr. J didn't treat me like this for no reason. My Mr. J was never really this cruel to me. I had to remember my Mr. J, I had to continue to love whatever remained of him. It was all I had left to cling on to.

I reached out and tentatively touched his shoulder. He didn't draw away. "Mr. J?" I whispered.

"What?" he snapped.

"Are you…are you gonna die, baby?" I whispered, barely daring to say it.

He was silent. "Yeah," he said at last, quietly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

I tried to stifle a sob, but I couldn't hold it back. I turned over so I didn't disturb him, and tried to cry silently. It didn't work. I couldn't stop sobbing as the full realization of what was going on hit me. He was dying. My angel was dying, and my life was going to end with his. He would leave me, alone and afraid, to deal with all the other thugs of Gotham, with the Bat, all by myself. I couldn't imagine life without him – it was overwhelming and dark and terrible.

I was stunned to hear him suddenly laugh. One of his insanely happy laughs, which trailed off into a mischevious little giggle as I felt his arms steal round me and turn me over to face him. "Silly Harley girl, it was just a joke," he murmured, grinning at me. "Of course I ain't gonna die, pumpkin. This town wouldn't know what to do without me. Nor would Bats. I couldn't disappoint them, or him, anymore than I could you, my little pooh bear."

"But you look real sick, puddin'," I whispered.

"Just a gag, baby, just an act," he replied. "I got everything under control. Don't you trust your Mr. J?"

"Sure I do, boss," I whispered, forcing a smile.

"That's my girl!" he said, smiling back. He slapped my bottom playfully and said, "Now go get Daddy another glass of water, kiddo."

"Anything you want, puddin'," I said, standing up. I came back with the water and sat on the edge of bed next to him, helping him drink.

"So…you got a plan then, boss?" I asked, slowly.

"Sure do, Harley girl," he retorted.

"Do you wanna…tell me what it is?" I asked, tentatively.

"Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, cupcake," he replied.

"Ok," I replied. Then I said, "It's just…I worry, y'know, sweetie. It would make me feel a lot better if I…knew what you were planning. Y'know, maybe I could help you or something if I knew…"

He patted my head gently. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, kiddo. You just keep on taking such great care of me, and you and Bats will find out at the same time."

"It involves Bats?" I asked.

"I think I said I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise," he murmured, his voice taking on that sharp edge I've learned to be wary of. "That wouldn't be very fun, Harley, would it?"

"No, Mr. J," I said, hurriedly. "I was just…y'know…curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear," he said, in that same dangerous tone. "And it may yet kill the Bat!" he cried, suddenly laughing hysterically. "But I hope not," he added, when he had laughed enough. "I'm counting on him. He can't disappoint me, not when I need him the most. You haven't disappointed me when I've needed you the most, have you, Harley girl?" he asked, stroking my hair down my face with the back of his hand. I loved his touch, and I loved that he had said he needed me, and I loved him so much I didn't know if I could keep breathing without him. I leaned into his gentle fingers, savoring their tender caress. I began to kiss his fingertips softly.

He pulled me gently into his embrace, and I curled up against his thin, ravaged chest, listening to his faint heart beat. He stroked my hair slowly and murmured, "You'll see, Harley. Bats won't let me die. Bats needs me too much. He'd be terribly bored without me. Just as I would without him. Who would I talk to? Who would really understand me?"

"I would, puddin'," I murmured, hurt by his words. I think I, of all people, understood him more than anyone else in the world. And I liked to think he could tell me anything he chose.

He laughed. "No, you wouldn't, Harley," he murmured. "You silly little baby. You can't possibly understand the way grown-ups think, the way Bats and I think. We're two of a kind, him and me. I mean, he's crazier than I am, naturally, but at our core, we're the same type of man. We live for the fight. And for each other."

"I live for you, puddin'," I murmured. "I love you."

I raised my face to kiss him, but he shoved me away abruptly. "There you go again, I, I, I, me, me, me," he muttered, angrily. "Do you even care about us at all?"

"About…who, puddin'?" I asked, confused.

"About Bats and me," he retorted. "Do you even care if we live or die?"

"Of course I care…about you, sweetie," I murmured. "But the Bat…no, I mean…we've tried to kill him for a long time. I couldn't care less if he bought the farm tomorrow…he could leave us in peace and we could rule this town …"

"And what would I do without him?" he demanded. "Do you want me to be bored?"

"Well…we'd be together," I stammered.

He laughed, one of his cruel, scornful laughs. "And you think that would be enough for me, do you?"

"It would be enough for me, puddin'," I murmured.

He glared at me. "You just don't get it, Harley," he muttered. "You don't understand me. Not like he does. But it's fine, I don't need you to, not while he's around. At least I can always talk to him."

"You know you can always talk to me, sweetie," I murmured.

"No point. It's like talking to a brick wall," he retorted. "Go back to bed, you silly little baby."

I obeyed, climbing back in next to him, but staying well away from him and turning away so that he wouldn't see me cry. I managed to keep silent this time as the tears slid down my face. I heard him gently lying back down, his breathing heavy with the mere effort of filling his lungs.

We must have lain like that for about two hours. I had cried silently until I couldn't make any more tears, and I felt myself drifting off from the effort, when I heard him say, "Harley, I'm cold."

I gently slid over next to him, wrapping my arms around him and snuggling against his weak, frail body. Suddenly he started laughing, a genuinely joyful sound, as he lifted an emaciated arm up, pointing to the window.

"Look, Harley baby!" he cried.

I lifted my eyes to see the Bat signal cutting through the heavy clouds outside the window, outshining the moon in its brightness. "Batsy's coming," he chuckled. "Batsy's coming, Harley girl," he murmured, turning over and grinning at me gleefully.

"I'm glad, Mr. J," I whispered. I was, if it made him this happy.

He kissed my forehead gently, embracing me and cuddling me against him as he laughed. "You'll see, pumpkin pie, you'll see. Bats is going to come and make everything right. He's going to come and help me, and if he doesn't want to, I'll make him. You listen to Daddy, Harley. Have faith in the Bat. He won't let me die. He wouldn't have the heart. You believe in Batman, kiddo, and everything will turn out all right."

"That's what people say, ain't it?" I murmured. "Normal people, I mean, Mr. J. They say the Bat makes everything right."

"And for once, Harley girl, they aren't deceiving themselves," he murmured. "Bats always wins. Always saves the day. He'll do it now, when it matters the most. He has to."

"But boss, we're the bad guys," I whispered. "Bats don't save the day for us."

He laughed. "What else is he going to do? Fail? Batman doesn't fail, sweets. He doesn't ever fail. He can't start failing now. That wouldn't be fair. And you know Bats; he always fights fair."

He struggled to sit up, and I helped him. He fell back on the pillows, taking my face in his his hands. "Say it, Harley girl," he murmured. "Say I believe in Batman."

"I believe in Batman, Mr. J," I whispered.

"That's my girl," he murmured. He kissed me gently, and then shouted out the window, "You hear that, Bats? Go save the day! I know you - you can't do anything else!"

He laughed maniacally, which deteriorated into the most horrible, racking cough. He began choking on his own blood, and I brought a bowl to his lips so he could cough it up. I stroked his hair back as his whole body shook, and I forced myself to look away from my bleeding angel and up into the dark symbol illuminating the night sky.

"Please save him, Batman," I murmured. "I have faith in you."


	2. Chapter 2

**_******After the events in "Batman: Arkham City"******_**

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Momma's gonna kill for you the whole damn world," I whispered, gently rubbing my stomach with circular strokes, my eyes glazed and unfocused, staring at the wall of my cell in Arkham. "And if they don't laugh at our jokes, Momma's gonna stab out their goddamn throats. And once the blood starts to wash off, Momma's gonna blow some more heads off…"

"Quinn," said a voice from the shadows.

I shut my eyes tightly, his voice slicing through me like a dagger. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed. "How dare you be here, after what you did? Don't you have any respect for a grieving widow?"

"You're not a widow, Harley," replied his dark, horrible voice.

"The hell I ain't!" I shrieked, standing up suddenly and whirling around. There he stood, the caped crusader, the glorious hero, who never failed and who never lost, except when it mattered. "You better shut your goddamn mouth while you still have one, get me? If Mr. J were here, he'd show you for talking to me like that! He'd show…"

I broke off, sobbing. The grief choked me so I couldn't even speak anymore. It paralyzed me so I couldn't do anything but cry and cry, even when I thought I had run out of tears.

"I know you're upset, Harley," he murmured. "I want you to know that I tried."

"Well, that's a relief, ain't it?" I whispered, sarcastically. "All is forgiven, because you tried, Bats. You tried, and you failed. How does it feel to fail for once? And why did it have to be now, when it mattered? Mr. J had faith in you, you know. He told me to believe in you and everything would turn out right. He trusted you, and you let him die! You bastard! You goddamn, heartless bastard!"

I rushed at him in sudden fury, wanting to punch him right in the mask, wanting it to break, and splinter, wanting his face to shatter into a million pieces, like my heart.

But he intercepted my wrist and ripped it down, bending back my arm. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to how I felt inside. "You get your hands off me now," I hissed.

He released me, and I turned away from him, rubbing my wrist. "I didn't come here to torture you," he said.

"Yeah? Could've fooled me," I retorted.

"I came here to apologize," he continued. "I tried, Harley. I wanted to save him. You have to believe that."

"Why should I?" I whispered, shutting my eyes. "Nobody else cares that he's gone. The people on the news, they're celebrating, people saying it should have happened a long time ago, saying good riddance. When I get outta here, they're gonna pay. I'm gonna make every one of them pay for saying that about Mr. J."

"Revenge won't ease your pain, Harley," he said. "Vengeance doesn't help. Trust me."

"It ain't about me, Bats," I retorted. "It's about him. I can't let them talk that way about him, can't let his memory be slandered. It's about what's fair, and what's right, and what's just. You of all people should get that."

"Justice is…"

"Don't you dare talk to me about justice," I interrupted. "I know all about that, Bats. If there was any justice in this world, you'd be dead too, same as Mr. J. It ain't fair that you get to live and he dies. It ain't fair, and it ain't just. But the world ain't fair or just – I realized that a long time ago. It's cruel and and random and crazy, like Mr. J…like Mr. J...was."

I started crying again, and he was silent. "It doesn't have to be like this, Harley," he murmured. "Joker is dead, but you're not. You don't have to stop living just because he did. You have a chance now, an opportunity for a new and better life, a sane life, a rehabilitated life, a useful and productive life as a solid citizen. Don't throw that away because of some ridiculous obsession with a dead man. Don't spend the rest of your life chasing ghosts. That's not how anyone should live."

"So you expect me to just forget about him?" I demanded. "Forget the best thing that ever happened to my life? Forget who I am? Get this through your thick skull, Bats. And tell them Arkham doctors to get it through theirs. I am Harley Quinn. I used to pretend to be someone else, but this is who I really am. My costume and my mask allows me to be myself, my true self. I don't know who you are without yours, but I don't suppose it matters anymore. You're Batman, and that's who you'll always be, even when you take the mask off. It's more than a choice, and more than a compulsion – it's something that's deep inside you. Maybe it's your soul. And I'm Harley Quinn. The Joker's Harley Quinn. I can't be anything else, and I don't want to be."

He didn't speak for a long time. "I came here to apologize," he repeated. "And to find out the answer to a question. Is it true?"

"Is what true?" I replied.

He held up my positive pregnancy test. I grinned. "Yeah, that's true. That's the only thing keeping me going. The only thing keeping me from bumping myself off. His baby needs me, just like he always did. My little J.J.," I murmured, rubbing my belly.

"It is Joker's, then?" he asked.

"You're surprised by that?" I retorted. "What do you take me for, Bats? I'm a one-man loon. Always have been."

"The doctors should probably know," he said. "Have you told anyone yet?"

"I told Mr. J," I retorted. "He laughed. His beautiful, crazy laugh. I'll never hear it again."

"I'll tell them for you," he continued. "You should probably have an examination, to make sure the baby's healthy."

"Oh, he'll be healthy," I retorted. "He'll be perfect. I don't want no doctors touching me – they might try to get rid of him or something. I don't trust them."

"This is important, Harley," he said. "Your baby's life…"

"Bats, trust me, there ain't nothing more important to me than my baby's life," I interrupted. "And you'll excuse me if I don't want you to have anything to do with it. Not after you couldn't save his Daddy's life."

He turned to go. "I wonder what I'll tell him, about how his Daddy died," I continued. "All the other kids will probably talk about Batman like he's some kinda hero, some guy who can't lose, who always saves the day, who makes everything right. But he'll know the truth. He'll know who to blame for his Daddy's death. He'll know how stupid it is to put your faith in heroes and justice and right. He'll know that Batman ain't more real than Santa Claus, and that he's even more ridiculous than a fat man in red suit. He'll know, and he'll laugh at those other kids, with his Daddy's laugh. And he'll look at me, with his Daddy's eyes, and say, 'I know the truth, Mommy. I know there's no such thing as Batman. He ain't a hero, he ain't a savior. He's a failure, and a liar, and a monster. He killed my Daddy, and I won't rest until I kill him for it.' And he'll smile at me, his Daddy's smile. God, I hope he has his Daddy's smile."

He was walking away, but he turned back to look at me. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything but stare, and then the shadows swallowed him up. "I'm sorry, Harley," he said, his voice echoing around the room.

I smirked, lying down on my bed and resuming my circular stroking pattern on my stomach. "You will be, Bats," I murmured. "You will be."


End file.
